


Blessed Art Thou

by elrhiarhodan



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anti-Semetic slurs, Everyone's Jewish, Hanukkah, Jewish Character, Jewish Eggsy, M/M, Religion, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16785079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/pseuds/elrhiarhodan
Summary: Michelle's been keeping a secret.  So has Merlin.  And so has Harry, for that matter.  Harry would say that it's not a thing that gentlemen discuss, Merlin's trained himself to forget this part of himself, and Michelle had (rightfully) figured that Eggsy had been better off not knowing, at least until now.Or the Everyone's Jewish fic that's been missing from the Kingsman fandom.





	Blessed Art Thou

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically this fic can be blamed on the always awesome Anarchycox, who'd been surprised to find that there are no fics featuring Jewish characters in the Kingsman fandom. And frankly, I'm always up for a challenge.

In a weird sort of way, it's moving day for Galahad. 

Well, actually for Eggsy, since Eggsy doesn't really like identifying with his code name during civilian activities. Harry thinks it charming, if a bit naive; Merlin, on the other hand, finds it healthy and mature. He might still have hair if he'd been able to separate his personal and professional life a bit better.

Not that Eggsy seems to mind Merlin's tonsorial asceticism.

For the best part of the last three years, Eggsy's been living in a Kingsman-provided house in Bloomsbury, with his mother and his sister. And for the last eighteen months, "living in" has been a polite way of saying the pretty little house two blocks from the British Museum has been Eggsy's official address for his Kingsman pay stubs and his contributions to Inland Revenue. Nearly every night that Eggsy rests his head on English soil, he rests it on pillow next to Merlin's own, his beautiful body spooned against Merlin's as he hogs Merlin's down comforter in the winter and whines in the summer when he turns the air condition down so low that Merlin needs to drag the damn thing out of the closet so they don't freeze to death.

But today, everything changes, at least as far as the paperwork goes – Eggsy is officially living with the Kingsman quartermaster, who couldn't be happier. Which is good thing, since everything that Eggsy owns, down to the last pair of trainers, is now tucked away in Merlin's sunlight house facing the Grand Union Canal in Maida Vale. Eggsy doesn't know it, but there are just a few more things that need to be picked up from Michelle Unwin's house.

It's Sunday morning and Eggsy and Merlin are sharing a pot of tea and a stack of toast. Like any modern couple, they are each absorbed in their electronic devices and foregoing anything as uncivilized as conversation. At least until Merlin says, "I got a text from yer mum, lad. She says that she's got some things for ye, now that we're officially living in sin."

Eggsy looks up from his tablet. "Living in sin? What year is this, Merls? 1956?"

Merlin laughs. "Those were yer mother's words, not mine. And don't call me 'Merls', please and thank ye very much." Merlin knows that getting Eggsy to stop that is a lost cause. But better 'Merls' than 'Haz', he figures.

Eggsy swallows a mouthful of toast and muses, "I wonder what she wants to give me."

"Ye'll find out soon enough. I told Michelle that we're free this morning and to expect us around ten."

Merlin smirks as Eggsy checks his watch and gets a panicked expression on his face when sees that it's already nine-fifteen. 

"Ye better put some decent clothes on, seeing that we're going to have to leave the house." Eggsy usually spends Sunday mornings in track pants and a vest; the lad's a disgustingly early riser and goes for a run before dawn. After two hours of hard roadwork, Eggsy comes home and showers and climbs back into bed with Merlin before Merlin's ready to face the day.

Eggsy shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth and downs it with a swallow of tea, nearly choking in the process. "You're a prince, Merls. Times like this make me wonder why I never took it up with Harry."

In their early days, he'd been plenty jealous of the place Harry held in Eggsy's heart. Now, it's become an old joke between them and Merlin refuses to rise to the bait, "Ye go do that, lad, and have some fun while yer at it." That Harry is asexual has nothing to do with anything.

"Anyone tell you that you're a heartless bastard, Ian Stewart?"

"I think ye did last night, when I wouldn't take the cock ring off ye and let ye come."

Eggsy's laughter trails after him, sweet music for Merlin to finish off his breakfast with.

Fifteen minutes later, Merlin and Eggsy - properly dressed to have tea with his mum and sister - are heading towards Bloomsbury in Merlin's car, a classic BMW sedan with far more horsepower than could ever been safely used in central London. Over the years, Merlin's kitted the vehicle out with a plethora of gizmos and gadgets that would make his counterpart in MI-6 seethe with jealousy if he knew about it. It's Merlin's fondest dream to get a chance to use the toys and rub that little twink's nose in the leave-behinds.

The Sunday morning traffic is light and soon enough, they are pulling up in front of Michelle Unwin's house, and it seems that someone's been watching out for them. Daisy's visible in the window and she's jumping up and down in excitement. Merlin hangs back, just a bit, to give Eggsy the chance to greet his sister - and to avoid getting tackled by a four year old and knocked off he feet. His balance is shot and can't take too many direct hits these days.

Merlin reaches into the back seat of the BMW and pulls out a bag - his own mum had taught him well, to never pay a visit empty-handed. Michelle had reached out to him last night and this morning, when Eggsy had gone for his run, Merlin had paid a visit to a nearby bakery. Being the sneaky sod that he is, he'd picked up his order and rushed home; getting undressed and back into bed with Eggsy none the wiser.

Eggsy notices the bulging bag, but then his attention is diverted by his little sister, who comes barreling down the walk, flinging herself at Eggsy. Merlin delights in the little girl's affection, but he'd find himself on his ass if he's the target of all of that pent up energy.

Eggsy and Daisy babble at each other, disappearing into the house. Michelle smiles at him and reaches for the bag, which Merlin refuses to hand over. He asks, with deep sincerity, "How are ye today?"

Michelle shakes her head from side to side, unwilling to commit to a positive or negative response. Merlin understands that, many of his days are like that.

"Yer looking good, Michelle." By good, Merlin means healthy. It had been touch and go there for a while, and one of the reasons why Eggsy hadn't wanted to officially move out.

"I'm feeling good, Merlin. Really good, like I used to, once upon a time."

He can see the truth of that in Michelle's eyes, her posture, even the color of her hair. She'd stopped bleaching the life out of it and had let it go back to its natural chestnut brown. That it's threaded through with silver doesn't seem to be an issue at all for her.

Merlin heads towards the kitchen and unpacks his contribution to the day - a dozen fresh bagels, tubs of cream cheese, a package of tissue-thin slices of lox and another of sable. There's also flat containers of onions, tomatoes, and cucumber. He knows where all of the dishes and cutlery are located and sets everything out, buffet-style, on the counter. If Michelle wasn't in recovery, Merlin would have brought a bottle of vodka and the fixings for Bloody Marys. Instead, he sets up the coffee maker to brew and they'll eat after the discussion Michelle wants to have with Eggsy. 

Stepping back, Merlin surveys his efforts and smiles. It's too much food for three adults, but there's something about the abundance that makes him happy.

He heads into the den, where Eggsy's on the rug, playing Legos with Daisy.

Merlin perches on an ottoman next to them – it's too hard to get up from the floor without embarrassing himself. He leans over and asks, "What are ye building, lassie?"

"A rocket ship, Unka Merlie!" Daisy offers him a block and he reaches out to put it onto the structure.

As it snaps into place, small argument ensues because Daisy doesn't want the block there; not that Merlin would really argue with a small child – just that Daisy kept prying the block off and handing it back to Merlin.

"Lassie, there are only so many places I can put this and we've tried all of them."

"NO!" Daisy throws the block at Merlin and it bounces off his glasses.

Michelle, who'd been observing the proceedings, scoops up her daughter. "Young lady, is that how we treat family?"

Daisy gives her mum a defiant look and Merlin holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable tantrum. But defiance melts into sorrow and the little girl bites her lip before apologizing. "Sorry, Unka Merlie."

"That's all right, little flower. I forgive ye."

"I think this one needs a nap." Michelle hefts Daisy onto her hip. "I'll be back in a few. Eggs, will you clear that up?" She gestures with her chin at the Lego blocks scattered about.

"Sure, mum."

Merlin holds the box as Eggsy scoops up the bricks and pours them into it. 

"Daisy's getting better, isn't she?"

"Aye, lad. She's growing up, finding her words." Merlin knows that a part of Eggsy salary has gone to pay for speech therapy and specialists to help his sister catch up to her age group. Just as another part has gone for Michelle's rehab and therapy sessions. His lad would beggar himself to help his family, and that makes Merlin so very proud to be his life mate. "Michelle's looking good, too."

"Yeah, mum's happy. She loves her job and feels like she's finally standing on her own two feet." Eggsy bites his lip and gives Merlin a look. "Sorry about that."

"Nothing to be sorry for, lad. It is what it is. I'm alive, yer alive. We just keep moving forward."

Eggsy nods and gets up from the floor. He puts the toy away and sits next to Merlin on the ottoman. "Love ya, Merls." Eggsy gives him an up-from-under look, a tiny smile curving his lips as he corrects to "Ian."

Merlin feels his heart turn to mush. "Love you, too. More than I ever thought possible."

Eggsy leans against him. "We're a right fair pair of saps, mooning over each other in my mum's living room."

"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Nope. Not in the least."

Merlin's about to kiss Eggsy when Michelle returns, carrying an old cardboard box. Eggsy pops up and takes it from her, a courtesy that Harry never had to teach the lad during their "gentleman lessons".

"This is what you wanted to give me?"

Michelle sits down. "Yeah, Eggsy. I've had this box for a long time. Kept it tucked away, kept it safe."

Michelle doesn't need to say from whom. The blight of Dean Baker and his dogs have been gone from her life for three years. Eggsy might have given the bastards a proper beat down in the Black Prince when he'd returned from saving the world, but it had been Merlin who'd seen to it that the men had been rounded up and put in one of Her Majesty's more remote penal facilities. Baker himself had dropped dead of a shank between his ribs six months in, and the rest of the dogs found themselves new owners soon enough.

Michelle had once asked him if he'd been responsible for that, and Merlin had been able to easily – and truthfully – deny it. It had been Harry who'd ordered the hit, a small recompense for his years of neglect.

"You'd best open that, Eggs. And then I'll explain."

The box is more than just old, it's ancient; the sides and flaps are held together with cellophane tape that falls apart when Eggsy touches it. One of the flaps drops to the floor and another soon follows.

"How old is this, Mum?"

"How old are you?"

Eggsy makes that adorable face that Merlin finds irresistible. "Twenty-seven?"

"Then the box is twenty-seven years old. Your grandmother – my mum – brought it to me a few days after I took you home from the hospital." Michelle sighs. "It was the last time I saw her."

Eggsy puts the box down and gives his mother a tight hug. "I'm sorry. You never talk about your family."

Merlin, in the course of doing the background checks that every candidate goes through, had learned much about Eggsy's family, the entire tree down to the roots. Lee Unwin had been the only son of elderly parents, who themselves had been only surviving children. His bride had also been an only child with a similar dearth of relatives; Michelle's father had died the year after she'd married and her mother had passed on just eighteen month after little Gary had been born. But given the state of Michelle's relationship with her parents, even if they had been alive, it seemed likely that the widowed Michelle would still have fallen for Baker's spurious charms.

"It's all right, babe, there's nothing to apologize for. This is your legacy. It might not get you out of prison and into a posh job in a tailor's shop, but it's something to be proud of."

Eggsy reaches into the box and takes out a cloth covered object. Eggsy makes a panicked sound; the blue velvet is in bad shape and disintegrates as Eggsy unwraps it. "Mum?" 

"Don't worry about that. Tell me, what have you got there?"

Eggsy holds up a small silver cup with a matching tray. The pieces are plain and slightly dented, gray with tarnish and age. "What is this?"

"Take everything out, then I'll explain."

Eggsy hands Merlin the cup and tray, and Merlin can't resist turning the cup over and checking for a hallmark. His eyes are still good enough to pick out the stampings, but not good enough to read them. He'll need a loupe and a reference book for a definitive answer on the origin of these objects.

The box has other treasures – a pair of matched candlesticks, an oval tray, and a small paint-covered case with screws still hanging out of it. That one seems to catch Eggsy's attention. "Ain't this a Kingsman thing?"

Merlin's slightly puzzled by the question. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well, there's one like this on our door frame at home, one here, and I think I saw one on the door at Harry's place."

Merlin catches Michelle's eye and says, "I think it's time ye explained everything."

She nods. "Eggsy, babe, there are some things about me that I've never told you. Some things about yourself, too." Michelle reaches into the box and pulls out a large silver candle holder with eight branches and a central pillar. She places it on the coffee table with an emphatic thunk.

Merlin hopes that Eggsy recognizes what this is.

Thankfully, his lad isn't completely ignorant. "That's a menorah, isn't it? Why do you have a menorah, mum?"

Michelle is bald with the truth. "Because I'm Jewish."

Eggsy blinks. "Mum?"

"And that means that you're Jewish, too."

Merlin doesn't know if he should step in and explain how Judaism traces ancestry through the mother's line. He doesn't need to, Michelle does a good job explaining.

"Since I'm Jewish, you're Jewish too. It goes by the mother, not the da."

"I didn't know that about you, mum. I mean, I always wondered why we never sang Christmas carols, but I thought that was because da was killed around Christmas."

Michelle lets out a heartfelt sigh. "My parents disowned me when I married your da. They weren't observant, not like their parents, but marrying one of the goyim - a Christian - was one step too far for them. When my own da died, my mum refused to talk to me at his funeral. She wouldn't, because Lee had been with me."

"But you said she came to see you after I was born."

"She did. I think she had second thoughts about cutting me and Lee out of her live after hearing that I'd had a boy child, and that we'd had the doctors circumcise you."

Eggsy looks down at himself, muttering, "So that's why I'm missing the tip of my knob."

Merlin chuckles, "Ye don't seem to miss it on me."

At that Michelle bursts out in a bark of wild laughter. "Please, please - I don't want or need to know about my boy's sex life."

"Sorry, mum."

Michelle accepts the apology and continues. "My mother was in her late sixties, but she wasn't in good health. With my da gone, she decided to move into an assisted living facility and had to give away most of her possessions. The kiddish cup, the Sabbath candlesticks, the tray for the challah, the menorah - those had been her parents' gifts to her when she'd married. She wanted me to give them to you when you were old enough."

Merlin drapes an arm over Eggsy's shoulder and pulls him close, kissing his temple.

"Just so you know, babe, your da was just fine with you not being Christian and he never asked me to convert. We were married in a registrar's office and he always said that if he never stepped foot into a church again, he'd be a contented man. We had some off-hand discussions about sending you to Hebrew school and having you bar mitzvah'd, but he died before we could do anything about that."

Merlin can feel Eggsy shaking. "You all right, lad?"

Eggsy looks up at him. "I don't really know. This isn't a bad thing at all, but it's just weird - that there's always been this thing about me, but I never knew about it."

"That's my fault, babe. Like so much of what you missed out on."

"Mum, no - "

"Eggsy, yes. If I hadn't taken up with - " Michelle shakes her head and purses her lips, as if she is unwilling to say Baker's name. "Could you imagine what a monster he'd have been if he'd known I was Jewish? That you were, too?"

"Yeah, not hard to imagine that at all." Eggsy reaches out and runs a shaky finger over the items he'd unpacked. "And I imagine that he'd have had this stuff melted down for the dosh. It's real silver, isn't it?"

Merlin, in his trip through Eggsy's background, had easily found Dean Baker's ties to several White Britain groups, including one with extreme anti-Semitic views. He still wonders why Michelle had stayed with the bastard for so many years.

"I'm sorry, Eggs. Sorry I kept this from you." Michelle apologizes again, asking for forgiveness for more than just this secret.

"It's okay, mum. We're good."

"You sure?"

Eggsy goes and wraps his arms around Michelle, holding her steady and tight. Merlin knows that his lad has just had his world shaken, but there's nothing that will shake Eggsy's love for his mum.

Eggsy lets Michelle go and says, "Just realized something."

"What?"

"If I'm Jewish because you're Jewish, then so is Daisy."

Michelle nods. "She's still a bit young to understand what that means. She loves Santa Claus and when I was a little girl, my parents would always have something for me to open on Christmas morning, so I wouldn't feel left out. But we always celebrated Chanukah. I'd spin the dreidel, my ma would give me chocolate gelt, and my da would hand me a new pound note every night after we'd lit the candles. Now that Daisy's four, I thought about doing the same thing for her. We'll have a little tree because holiday trees are nice, and we'll light the menorah and say the prayers, too."

Eggsy picks up the silver menorah. "Then you should keep this."

"No, Eggs. That's yours. I'll get an electric one - not good to have burning candles with a toddler running around."

Eggsy bites his lip and looks at the secret heritage he's just been given, then looks away, towards his sister's bedroom. Merlin knows just what his lad is thinking - that he should share this.

"May I make a suggestion?"

Eggsy looks at Merlin, relief in his eyes. "Please."

"It's usually a woman who lights the Sabbath candles. Maybe you could hold onto the candlesticks for Daisy? Teach her the prayer and what it means?"

Eggsy doesn't ask him how he knows this, which really doesn't surprise Merlin. He has something of a reputation as a repository of odd facts. But Eggsy will eventually put two and two together and Merlin will have some explaining to do.

"That sounds like a good idea. Mum, do you agree?"

Michelle looks grateful. "Thank you, Ian - that's a lovely idea."

The moment seems fraught. Eggsy, standing next to him, is quivering with barely bound tension and Michelle seems as if she's about to cry.

"How about brunch? I've brought the food of your people, Eggsy."

That earns him a puzzled look from Eggsy. "Food of my people?"

"Bagels, cream cheese, smoked fish. The food of the gods, and rather coincidentally, of European Jews."

They head into the kitchen and Eggsy lets out a whistle at the bounty.

Michelle lets out a watery laugh. "My da used to say, 'we Jews suffer and suffer and suffer some more. And then we eat'."

Merlin chuckles at that. His own grandfather had always uttered a similar phrase at the start of every holiday meal.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Merlin?"

Merlin holds up a finger and Eggsy sits down, the very image of patience. He's in the process of guiding Tristan through the streets and alleyways of Cairo. The Kingsman agent had infiltrated a terrorist cell, identified the members, their scheme, and most importantly, the source of their funding. Tristan's only misstep had been losing a contact lens, which revealed one pale blue eye. When HQ learned that the entire cell – twenty stateless young men who'd snuck into Egypt – had orders to capture and behead Tristan, Tristan's regularly assigned handler had contacted Merlin to conduct the tricky extraction.

Right now, Tristan is casually walking through central Cairo, looking like a wealthy British tourist. He'd exchanged his traditional _galabeya_ and headscarf for a linen suit and wide-brimmed hat. While the Western clothes help hide him in plain sight, the suit, although Kingsman-made, isn't bulletproof, and leaves him far more vulnerable than anyone would like.

"Yer five hundred meters from yer extraction vehicle." Merlin checks the feed from numerous street cameras and doesn't see any sign of the terrorists. "Pick up the pace just a wee bit."

Tristan follows orders, walking a bit faster, but not so fast to attract attention.

"Four hundred meters. Keep it casual."

Just when he thinks his agent is in the clear, Merlin spots one of the terrorists, but the man isn't on Tristan's trail yet. "Maintain that pace, agent; you might have an unfriendly nearby."

"Three hundred meters." The terrorist turns the corner and is now heading away from Tristan. Merlin doesn't let himself relax. This could be misdirection and he double-checks the faces nearest to the waiting truck. No one is lingering within a hundred meters.

"Two hundred meters and you can move a little faster, now."

Tristan isn't quite running, but as Merlin follows him from a street camera, there's now a very evident urgency to his pace.

"One hundred meters." Merlin sends a signal to the waiting truck, starting the engine. 

"Fifty meters." Another signal unlocks the driver-side door. 

"Ten meters." Merlin sends a third signal, arming the primary countermeasures. "Five meters."

And Tristan opens the truck door, slides behind wheel, and pulls out into traffic. Unless the men chasing him have handheld rocket launchers, Tristan is safe. 

_"Thanks, Merlin. Appreciate the assist."_

"Get yerself to the heliport – a full team is there to give you cover. I'm handing you back to Clarice. If there are problems, I'll step back in."

Clarice takes back control of the mission. _"Copy that, Merlin. Agent, I'll be tracking you every step of the way."_

Merlin taps his glasses to end the transmission and turns to Eggsy. "Sorry to keep ye waiting, lad."

"No problem, Merls. Everything okay?"

Merlin stifles a grimace; he really should just give up trying to break the lad's habit of horrific shortening of his codename and the use of the Americanism. "All's fine. Just had to make sure Tristan got to his extraction without incident. Clarice wanted my expertise. Figured ye wouldn't mind a short interruption of our Sunday afternoon quiet time."

"As long as Tris gets home safe and sound, that's all that matters. It's not like you've got a union job, working nine to five, Mondays through Fridays, with an hour for lunch and two fag breaks a day."

Merlin nods, "Yer a good egg."

"Thanks, _Merls_." The extra emphasis Eggsy puts on the dreaded nickname tells Merlin that his lad hates that expression. Merlin vows to use it with increasing frequency. Maybe a little retaliation of the frequent kind will break Eggsy of that annoying habit.

"What can I do for ye?"

"Answer a few questions, maybe?" Eggsy has a tentative look on his face, one that Merlin hasn't seen since his candidate days. 

"Ye know ye can ask me anything, lad."

Eggsy holds out the mezuzah. "I've done some research. Well, an image search and then a deep dive into Wikipedia. You really didn't answer my question at mum's about this being a Kingsman thing. And it isn't."

"Not in the least." Merlin takes the mezuzah from Eggsy. It's old and ugly and coated in layers of house paint, which Eggsy must have chipped away to reveal the single Hebrew letter, _shin_. 

"It's a Jewish thing."

"Yes, it is." Merlin doesn't know why he's making Eggsy work for this, but he is.

"You have one on your door."

"On _our_ door."

"So you put it there for me?" Now Eggsy seems puzzled. "How did you know?"

"That you're Jewish?" Merlin just raises an eyebrow at Eggsy. "How do you think?"

Eggsy grimaces and shakes his head. "I'm an idiot, of course. Background checks."

"Actually, it came up with yer father when he'd been a candidate. Chester kind of threw a fit. Bad enough that Lee was working class, that he'd married a Jewish girl made it worse."

Eggsy laughs. "So, he was an anti-Semite as well as a classist prick."

"Chester was the kind of man who'd hated everyone who wasn't like him. But he did reserve an extra-special disdain for Jews. He'd referred to me as a kike as often as he called me a schemie." Merlin watches Eggsy's face as he drops that piece of information.

"Wait, wait. Just – wait a moment."

"Not going anywhere, lad." Merlin leans back in his chair, fiddling with the mezuzah.

"I was wrong, wasn't I?"

"Ye often are, but I love ye anyway."

"Shut it, Ian. You know what I mean. I was wrong about that." Eggsy points to the mezuzah in Merlin's hand. "You didn't put it up for me."

"No, Eggsy, I didn't. I put the mezuzah up by my front door the day I bought this house. Before I even moved in."

Eggsy lets out a deep breath. "I read in that Wikipedia article that Jews will put up a mezuzah even if they aren't otherwise observant."

"That's correct, Eggsy."

"You're Jewish."

"Aye." Merlin doesn't see any need to elaborate.

Eggsy isn't done with his questions. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Merlin shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. I really don't discuss it."

"You ashamed or something?"

"Hell, no." The words explode out of Merlin. Then he thinks about his answer. "I didn't mean to keep this from ye, it just …" Merlin shakes his head. "Chester hadn't been the only anti-Semite in Kingsman. It had just become a habit to not say anything."

"Okay – but …" Eggsy trails off.

"But what, lad?"

"You had known that my mum's Jewish, that I'm Jewish. I'd have thought that it would be something we'd share." Eggsy sounds hurt.

"It had been clear that you had no idea about yer heritage. And when I had a chance, I asked your mum about it. She told me she'd never told you, but she planned on it."

Now Eggsy looks hurt. "So you discussed this with her? You knew this big secret and just kept it from me?"

"I couldn't tell ye about yerself, lad. It's not my place. But I'm sorry that I didn't tell ye about me. I guess I've just been so closed off about it that it became a reflex. I'm not at all observant – I pay scant attention to the holidays. Haven't even said kaddish for my mum and da in years."

"Kaddish?"

"The Jewish prayer for the dead." Merlin lets out a sad sigh. "Haven't been to synagogue in decades. I've let Kingsman kill something in me that I shouldn't have."

Eggsy gets up and hugs him. "Maybe we can find it again, together?"

"Maybe." Merlin hugs Eggsy back, "Definitely."

Eggsy kisses him on the top of his head. "Especially since Arthur's Jewish, too."

Merlin laughs. "I've been waiting for that."

"Harry's also got a mezuzah on his doorway."

Merlin explains, "His mother had been a Rothschild. After the war and the financial crisis and the changes in the inheritance tax laws, Harry's father needed cash to keep the family estate going. The way Harry had explained it, his father basically sold himself for a couple of million quid. His father-in-law understood that the eldest son and heir would have to be raised in the Church of England, but he'd insisted that all subsequent offspring have a nominally Jewish upbringing."

"So Harry's got the tip of his knob snipped off, too?"

Merlin can't hold back a burst of laughter. "Aye, and I don't particularly care for yer interest in Harry's knob."

Eggsy laughs, too. "Yours is the only knob I'm interested in. And do I want to know why you know that Harry's cut?"

"I'm Merlin, and I know everything." He'd also shared a room with Harry for four years at Cambridge and seen him naked plenty of times.

"I suppose that Chester didn't know about Harry, though."

"Oh, Chester knew and he seethed about it all the time. On one hand, Harry Hart, second son of the Marquess Cardoc, had been the perfect type of Englishman that Chester adored having as an agent. But Harry Hart, Jew, had been someone Chester utterly despised. And believe me, Harry Hart, Jew, never passed up a chance to rub it in Chester's face. For every damn holiday party, Harry'd insist on having a kosher meal and demanded that the decorators include at least one menorah for each Christmas tree in the mansion."

"Must have pissed off old Chester big time."

"Especially since Harry would often have the bacon from the buffet if there was a morning meeting and would make the demand for a kosher meal while munching on a rasher. And Chester would just seethe."

"Makes me glad I killed the old bastard - mostly because he sold us out, but also because he was such a bastard to you."

Merlin rests his forehead against Eggsy's. "I'm glad ye killed him, too. I have to say that when I've been a bit low, I've watched the footage of you engineering his demise. It is still a beautiful thing, seeing him choke on his own tongue." 

Eggsy smirks, licks his lips and asks, "Well, how would you like to choke on my tongue?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Merlin kisses Eggsy, or rather, Merlin lets Eggsy kiss him, giving up control, surrendering to the sweetness of his lover's mouth and forgetting his pain in all the love he feels for Eggsy.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Merlin comes home to the scent of frying potatoes and the sweetness of apple sauce. He would have been home a few hours ago, but Kay's mission in St. Petersburg went tits up and he had to oversee an emergency extraction. There are days he feels more like an on-call dentist than the Kingsman quartermaster.

Eggsy sticks his head out of the kitchen and smiles. "You're home!"

"Of course I'm home."

"Kay all right?"

"Do I want to know how you know about Kay?" Generally speaking, agents don't know the details of other agents' assignments.

"Arthur's in the house and he's been monitoring the situation. Can't help but hear what's going on, seeing that I'm in my own kitchen."

Merlin had forgotten that Harry had been invited for the evening festivities. "Fair enough."

Harry joins them in the hallway. "Oh, good, you're here. We've been frying up a storm. And good work on getting Kay out."

Merlin just shakes his head at the lack of discretion. "Do I have time for a quick wash up?"

Harry waves him off. "Plenty of time. Hope you're hungry, we made enough to feed an army."

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "Well, not quite. If Haz has everything under control, why don't I come up and give you a hand?"

" _Harry_ has everything under control, but if you're going to have sex, better make it a quickie, the latkes won't keep forever."

Both Merlin and Eggsy roll their eyes, and Eggsy mutters, "Cute, Haz. Real cute."

Merlin slowly makes his way up the stairs and feels every single day that he's missed his physical therapy because of some emergency. Maybe he'll requisition a stair climbing machine for his office and have Eggsy forge Harry's signature. The boy has gotten good at that.

In their bedroom, Eggsy steers Merlin into the bathroom and efficiently strips him out of his trousers. "Figured you might want some help."

Merlin eases himself onto a stool next to the bathtub and turns on the taps. As the tub fills, Eggsy helps him remove the prosthetic from his right leg, clucking his tongue at the blossoming pressure sores. "Can you work from home tomorrow and give these a chance to heal?"

"It's possible." In truth, Merlin has his systems set up so that he never has to be on-site, but he hates giving into this disability.

The tub is filled halfway and Merlin eases himself into the hot water, hissing a bit as his body adjusts to the temperature. Eggsy takes out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a clean compression stocking for his stump, leaving them by the sink. There had been a stretch of time when Merlin hated to have Eggsy see him like this, but Eggsy, great-souled and blessed with an infinitely caring heart, refused to be shut out, leaving Merlin no choice but to accept the love and tenderness.

"You okay, Ian?" 

Merlin turns on the jets and lets the hot water do it's work. "I'm good. Give me fifteen minutes?"

"Sure thing." Eggsy heads into the bedroom, likely pulling out fresh clothing for Merlin.

Merlin closes his eyes, knowing that if he falls asleep, Eggsy will wake him. And Eggsy does, with a flick of some fingers in the water and a kiss on the forehead. "Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty. Harry's about to start eating without us."

It's a bit of a production getting out of the tub, but years of practice make the process go smoothly. Merlin, with a little encouragement from Eggsy, elects not to put the prosthetic back on. He leans on Eggsy as they head back downstairs, where Merlin gets around with a set of crutches.

Unlike Harry's grand house in Kensington, Merlin's is fitted out with a large eat-in kitchen instead of a formal dining room. The table is set for three, and there are gift-wrapped packages next to each place setting. Merlin pretends to be surprised. "What's this?"

Harry doesn't hold back. "It's Chanukah, you berk."

"So, I'm guessing the packages from ye contain chocolate coins that taste like shite."

"As gracious as always, Ian."

"Ye've been giving me the same thing, year in and year out since Uni, why should this year be any different?"

"And I presume that there's a bottle of shitty scotch somewhere that you'll make me hunt for like it's the Afikomen."

"Wrong holiday, but if you open the hall closet, there's a package with your name on it." This is all part of the ritual they've shared for most of the last thirty years.

Harry does go to the hall closet and comes back with a bottle-shaped package in blue and silver paper. "Piper's Clan?"

"Only the best for my best friend."

Harry laughs and sets the bottle on the hallway table and the three of them head back into the kitchen. The scent of fried potato pancakes is like the finest perfume and sets Merlin's stomach rumbling. He feels like he's twelve years old again, his mum and granny arguing over a recipe while his da and gramps are in the den, having their own argments over footie or rugby or whatever thing had been in the headlines. While the adults had been distracted, Merlin would try to grab one of the pancakes and get his fingers smacked for the effort.

Soon enough, the men would come into the little kitchen and his mum would annouce that it's time to light the menorah, which had been Ian's favorite moment. He'd get a few chocolate coins and his da would give him a new fifty pence piece and his grams would pull out a Scottish pound note, which his mum would promptly pocket and then deposit in his piggy bank.

"Ian?" Eggsy puts his hand over Merlin's as it grips the crutch. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, lad. Shall we light the candles?"

The three men say the holiday prayers as the candles flicker and catch flame.

_Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech ha-olam a-sher ki-de-sha-nu be-mitz-vo-tav ve-tzi-va-nu le-had-lik ner Cha-nu-kah_

Blessed art thou, oh Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who has sanctified us with his commandments and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.

_Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech Ha-olam she-a-sa ni-sim la-avo-te-nu ba-ya-mim ha-hem bi-zman ha-zeh_

Blessed art thou, oh Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, who has performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.

_Ba-ruch A-tah Ado-nai E-lo-he-nu Me-lech Ha-olam she-heche-ya-nu ve-ki-yi-ma-nu ve-higi-a-nu liz-man ha-zeh_

Blessed art thou, oh Lord our G‑d, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.

__

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes:
> 
> 1 - I don't know if bagels and lox is a thing for London Jews. I'm going to assume that it's universal wherever the People have settled.  
> 2 - Michelle's parents aren't really hypocrites, celebrating "Santa Claus" and yet disowning Michelle for marrying outside of the religion. Middle class, non-observant Jewish households would often have presents for their kids for Christmas day, claiming that Santa Claus isn't overtly Christian.  
> 3 - The Afikomen is the piece of matzoh that the young children hunt for during Seder (the Passover celebration). The child who finds it usually gets some money.  
> 4 - In my travels through the Interwebz, the general consensus is that "Piper's Clan" is the worst cheap scotch money can by. One reviewer said it tastes like old cheese with a gasoline finish.


End file.
